Remembering Green
by serienade
Summary: She can't do it. She can't remember. She can't remember green in Ishval - but how could she, in this place of barren desert and blood and metal and tears? But maybe…maybe Roy can remind her.


**Author's Note: Well, this was originally going to be a kind of poetry compilation…But then I gave up on it, and thus decided just to post them up as separate oneshot pieces. So - here was the very first piece that I'd written about the colors and how they've entertained so deeply into Roy and Riza's lives. Thank you, and please read and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

* * *

><p>She doesn't remember.<p>

.

Stationed,

Here,

In this awful deserted wasteland,

Put here to kill,

And maim,

And capture.

.

She can't remember green.

.

It's no surprise,

Really,

That she can't remember.

.

Green means life,

Means growth,

Means rebirth,

In something new.

.

Nothing here is green,

Nothing at all,

And she can see why.

.

All she knows,

All she knows since being here,

Is brown

And black

And red

And grey.

.

The chocolate brown hair

Of the soldier she gunned down,

The dusty brown-yellow,

Of the dirt that she stands in,

Lives on,

Digs her shoes into,

Each and every monotonous day,

The dirtied, rusted mocha

Of the once brown-yellow ground,

Blood seeping in through the dry cracks.

.

The glistening black color

Of her silver-tipped shotgun,

The dull,

Gunmetal-gray color

Of her lead bullets,

The complete darkness

That falls on the camp,

A carpeting of the darkest black,

Screams and gunshots still,

Sometimes,

Ringing out from the blackness,

Piercing the silence,

Before all is quiet

Like it was before.

.

And his eyes,

His hardened onyx eyes,

That hold such immense pain,

Such utter remorse,

When he has to take another life.

.

The deep burgundy,

Almost black-

But not quite-

Of their blood,

As,

Falling,

It soaks into the dusty ground.

.

The red-orange

Of the darkly setting sun,

Slowly descending

Into the waiting darkness,

Waiting to unfurl

It's carpet of inky black.

.

The red of his flames,

Sparking at a mere snap of his fingers,

Burning brightly,

Clearly,

In this colorless desert,

As they burn,

And kill,

Legions of soldiers,

Armies,

Dead in their tracks.

.

Grey –

Grey is the color,

That one hidden color,

Of the eyes of soldiers,

Soldiers who have seen too much,

Lived too little,

Before being forced onto the battlefield.

.

Before being forced to become murderers,

Killers,

Dogs of the military.

.

And grey,

A soft,

Dusty,

Near-white gray.

.

The color of the ashes,

The ashes he leaves behind

Every time he starts yet another flame.

.

For once his fire,

His uncontrolled,

Raging,

Tamed,

Fire is through with them,

With whatever he has chosen to set alight,

That is all that is left.

.

And in this world,

This narrowed world

That she now finds herself living in,

There is no green.

.

How could there be?

.

Whatever was green,

Was once vibrant and growing,

Has been changed

Into a sickly,

Wilted,

Drying yellow.

.

And so he finds her like that,

Lying on the ground,

Tracing patterns,

Aimless spirals,

Into the thick layer of loose dirt

That covers the earth.

.

She lies there,

Merely drawing unknown shapes,

Trying to remember,

Really,

Truly,

Remember,

What green had looked like.

.

She tries,

And fails,

To imagine the earth-

A rich, dark, earthy brown color,

Not this seedy baked clay-

When green,

When life,

When flowers and herbs and plants and trees,

Were once growing out of it.

.

And she fails.

.

She can't do it.

.

She sees him,

Hears his muffled footsteps,

As he sits next to her,

Eyes questioning.

.

"I can't remember,"

She says,

By way of reply.

.

"I can't remember green."

.

"I can."

He says,

Softly,

Softly,

Almost inaudible

To her sharp ears.

.

"Please,"

She whispers,

Pleading,

.

"Remind me."

.

And,

As they sit there,

Hands laced together,

Looking towards the beginning sunset,

The sky already turned pale pinks,

Darkened blues,

A bloody red near the horizon-

He talks to her,

Paints wonderful pictures in her mind,

About green.

.

He reminds her,

In quiet words,

Of the dark green dress she wore,

Of the light green-blue sheen

To the stilled lake,

Right by her house,

Of the lightened green that was seen,

The first sign of budding

From her planted sunflowers.

.

And at the end of it all,

She smiles,

For,

Although she may not remember fully,

She can now remember green.

.

They fall asleep that way,

In front of her tent,

Hands still entwined,

Still facing the setting sun-

Which has set,

Long ago-

A content smile on her features,

And the same on his,

Happy enough with how the day has gone.

.

And when he proposes to her,

A few years after the war,

With a vibrant emerald engagement ring,

She smiles.

.

And accepts,

Of course.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: This was written some time ago, so I'm really not sure of the quality of it. =_=<strong>

***sheepish grin***

**Well, I hope you enjoyed it - and please leave a review if you did, if it wouldn't be too out of your way!**

**Thank you!**


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